Ex-junkie
by ILollieeI
Summary: Based just after season 9 - Sam can't help himself around Dean. The smell of Dean and the texture of his blood is almost too much for Sam to contain himself. How will the younger brother contain his needs? Will he be able to suppress his need for demon blood? WINCEST


"Ah, shit." Dean cussed from the bathroom, blood dribbling from the underside of his chin; at the beginning of his throat. Of course, Dean had some sort of accident-prone personality, and it only seemed to get worse now the blood that ran throughout his veins was that of demon. He was continuously reassured that he was just getting used to the new kind of lifestyle, but Dean wasn't an idiot; he could tell a demonic life wasn't the first chosen for him.

He slammed the disposable razor down to the side; he was forced to using those plastic shitty 'forks' as he and Sam seemed to be on move more than alot now, and Sam made every bitch remark possible to stop Dean from lugging his electric razor around; fuckin' Sam.

A drop of blood seemed to latch itself away from Dean's wound, falling to the nearby side; staining the smooth wood with dark crimsonated liquid. "Fuck." Dean cussed once more, in slight thought whether said liquid would manage to come out; he was perfectly aware blood stained a lot of things; and that was simply human blood, he wasn't sure as to what his dark-evil stained liquid would cause. Nevertheless, he ran water over the small wound just beneath his chin, the small cut favouring to his tenderness; the small open wound responded to such, the bleeding stopping almost instantly.

After the quick shave, Dean would run his charred fingertips along his clean-shaven face, a sigh of content escaping his dried lips; he liked the feeling of his own smoothness. He was currently watching himself in the mirror, wondering if he had changed physically compared to when he was human; he wasn't proud of what he now was, but there was nothing he could do to change such - not to his knowledge, anyway.

"Dean, I'm back." Sam's sultry voice echoed throughout the small motel room, which was quickly accompanied with the rustle of supermarket bags that were carelessly thrown onto the table, which was then followed with Sam's form resting on his single bed, the mattress bending beneath his weight. Dean's back straightened from his pruning from the mirror; his lips parted ever-so slightly - he was interested as to what Sammy had brought back from the supermarket; in hope for pie. "Hey, Sammy." Dean responded as he stepped out from the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. His mossy hues would dart around the room, his hunger finally resting upon the table which held several supermarket bags, overflowing with food - he was quick to scurry to the table, digging through the bags in hope for his favourite dish. "Pie's in the other bag, Dean." Sam had read his mind, and knew exactly what Dean was in search for. Dean simply replied with a chuckle, pulling out the cherry flavoured pie from the plastic bag, the food seemingly bloated with sugar.

He didn't even bother to dish it onto a plate or help himself to a fork, he just took it like a child would, scuffing over to his own single bed, curling up onto the centre; his legs crossed as he smirked; he always looked forward to his pie. "Thanks, Sammy." Dean mumbled, scooping a bit of pie onto his forefinger before pushing it into his mouth, savouring the sweet taste of such; he'd suck at the digit before all the taste was gone, pulling out his finger with a small 'plop'. Man, how he loved his pie.

Sam stared with a mahogany-stained gaze, his lips parted ever so slightly, lips wet with unconscious want. Dean looked so beautiful like that; so sexy when he didn't mean anything sexual by such behaviour. All Sam could do was watch Dean enjoy his pie, the sweet food sticking to the inside of his mouth, coating his tongue with sugar. "Uhh.." Sam stuttered, not too sure where to place his eyes. He couldn't help but imagine his own member being in Dean's mouth instead, a small drop of sweat forming to his 'brow; they were fuckin' brothers, for God's sake! Nevertheless, Sam was a man crafted with sexual want, the only real way he knew how to vent was through sexual intercourse - still, he tilted his body backwards, his head hitting the wall as he gazed up at the ceiling; he knew Dean and him could never be anything more than that.

Sam had started feeling emotions of lust and such when Dean had awoken as a Demon, smelling and sensing the blood whenever they were close enough for it to be sensed. He was crazy for it, and eventhough he was an ex-blood junkie, the very smell of it reminded him back to the times he had with Ruby; the very need that pulsated his veins. He needed Dean, and he knew it.


End file.
